Chapter 17: Jewel's Light
"Ah." Sherlock says as he makes a beeline for a stall that looks no different to John than all the rest of them. John trots behind him, only a few steps away, by the time he catches up with the tall captain, however, Sherlock is already quietly speaking to a short, think purple-skinned alien. John has no idea what race the alien being is part of, so he just takes it all in stride. Sherlock's deep voice is precisely speaking a strange, guttural language. The alien is alternately opening and closing his three-fingered hands, seemingly making a conversational point here and there.
John moves so that his back is to the captain and looks around the bazaar, his eyes roving the multi-faceted crowd for any apparent danger to Sherlock or himself. He studies the green awnings and tablecloths, the light tan wood of the stools and bars all around. A lull in the conversation behind him catches his attention and he turns back to the captain. The purple-skinned being is holding something white and sparkling in one of his hands. Sherlock reaches for it and holds it up to the suns' light.
It is a jewel of some type, its facets catching the lights around it and throwing off blues, pinks, and an odd golden light that John recognizes from when Sherlock grabbed the knife the Telom was attempting to stab him with. The golden light spreads before them as if someone had just turned on a heavy-duty MAG lite and pointed it in their direction. The light dances about them as if it is something living, even in the bright daylight.
Sherlock catches John's eye and gives him a wonderful smile, lips curved over his teeth. John fights the ever-present urge to grab the taller man by the shoulders and kiss him senseless. In that instant the light changes from golden to a deep blue. Sherlock raises an eyebrow and John just stares at it all. He does not completely understand what just happened, but he is pretty sure Sherlock is. As is the alien that is now staring up at him from its stool with wide eyes; it seems there is a universal look for "wow" and it's apparent now.
Sherlock closes his palm over the shiny jewel and slips it into the pocket of his black trousers. He gives a slight wink to John, going back to his almost-undecipherable conversation with the alien. After a short while, Sherlock pulls several paper slips out of his pocket (John considers that Sherlock's pockets must be never-ending) and hands them to the alien who makes a sound that John's certain is a giggle. The captain claps him on the shoulder as he walks by and John falls into step beside him.
"What is that thing?"
The captain considers his words for a moment. "It's like a truth serum, John. In this case, the gold light shows me what it's capable of. White light is neutral, blue light is positive, and if the light fades completely, well that means we need to get out of the situation rather fast."
John nods as he takes it all in. "Okay." He thinks over how the light turned blue when it touched him. "So that means I'm no danger to you?" He sneaks a look up at the captain through his eyelashes.
The captain makes a deep chuckle in his chest. "Only as dangerous as you would like to be, Ambassador."
Naturally (and is in all good fanfiction) the deep sound of Sherlock's chuckle vibrating in his muscular chest stirs something hungry in John's body. He stops in his tracks and reaches out to grab the captain's shirt. He pulls him backwards and reaches up both hands to pull the captain's face to his. He will never see anything as wonderful as Sherlock smiling into his face before their lips meet.
They sway together on the spot, Sherlock's hands on John's waist and John's around the captain's neck, fingers slowly running through the neat curls on his nape. The captain is making an interesting humming noise in his throat as their tongues wrestle for dominance between the two mouths. It's so intense that they have almost forgotten their surroundings.
A high-pitched whine and a thunk at their feet brings them around fast. John yanks the captain down to the ground and drops to his knees, pulling his weapon out from behind his back. He aims it towards the sound but sees nothing. Things go back to reasonably peaceful after a few heartbeats and he helps Sherlock off of the ground. They stand back-to-back for a moment and look around. There's the sound of heavy breathing and Sherlock gives John no time to react, he simply states "Run." In the next second, their boots are pounding the hard ground and they are moving as far away from the bazaar as they are capable.
As he's running, Sherlock is pulling the jewel back out of his pocket and holding his hand out in front of him, palm up. John has to concentrate on where he's going so he only takes a quick look before he is plunging head first through a blinding white light.
Everything is silent, white noise. Sherlock stands beside him, one hand on John's shoulder. He is still so John copies the lack of action. A very large being runs right past them, huge muscular legs with equally huge feet making thudding noises on the ground. They can feel the ground tremble beneath their feet, but the massive being cannot see nor hear them. It stops after a few paces and turns back, walking slowly and moving its head from side to side, searching.
John looks up at the captain, but Sherlock shakes his head and places a finger to his own lips. His eyes tell John to wait. They watch the huge alien as it walks past them again, shaking its own head from side to side. John is reminded strongly of a hound that has lost its prey. The being finally stalks away from them, back the way it came. Sherlock closes his fingers around the jewel and it disappears again. John lets out a breath that he wasn't aware he was holding.
"That was close." His hand is still wrapped around his weapon; apparently it has yet to get the memo that they are safe, for the moment.
"You didn't ask if there was anything else the jewel could do." The captain states as he starts walking.
John chuckles and moves into stride beside the captain.
o-o-o-o-o-o
They wander for over an hour, slowly going uphill as they walk. The exercise really isn't a strain on either one of them, but they are silent nonetheless. John has a pretty good idea that things are going to get even more dangerous from here on out. He works out some scenarios in his mind, but they always end with his protecting the captain. So far so good.
Captain Holmes, however, is working through various scenarios where he spectacularly fails to protect his companion. He is growing more irritated with every step. He finally stops in the middle of nowhere and huffs. He straightens up his shirt and trousers, even patting some of the road dust off of himself. He stares John down for a moment, seems to make some sort of decision then smiles a little and they continue on their way.
John just grins to himself at the captain's odd behavior. He wants to ask what's going on in the magnificent mind, but knows he will be rebuffed. It's probably better just to let it go at this point.
"Captain, do we have lodgings for the night, or…" he gestures around them at the fields that line the dirt road.
"No, we are not camping. We will have a bed for the night here in just a few moments." John's eyes follow the captain's hand as he gestures in the direction they are walking. "Our luggage should have preceded us, if the Professor's device is working properly."
They continue on for a little while longer until they reach a building that seems to be a large, square hut. It is the same brown color as the dirt road they have been following, but its windows are large and welcoming. There is a large sign over the door with a word in a language John doesn't recognize, though he is positive it is some sort of motel or boarding house.
It turns out his hunch is right on both counts. A human woman is working at the counter when they walk up. Her blue eyes light up when she looks at the captain, though she only gives the smallest glance in John's direction. Without asking any questions, she pulls a key off of the peg board behind her and holds it out to the captain. His long fingers reach out and grasp it and she takes his hand in both of her own, gazing into his face with a searing attention.
Sherlock never misses a beat, but kisses one of her hands and gently works his fingers loose. He lays his arm over John's shoulders and pulls him closer.
"Mable, this is mypartner, Ambassador John Watson." Mable takes a step back from the counter and her eyes harden just a little, though she does hold out a friendly hand to John. John follows Sherlock's example and presses his lips to the woman's hand. She gives a girlish giggle and smiles.
"You have done well for yourself,Captain." She purrs at him, winking.
Sherlock actually does not have an answer for that, but asks her simply "Has anything arrived for me?"
"Yes. Your luggage is upstairs in your room. I also had some cold trays prepared and sent up for you. Since you are back in this Quadrant, I figured it was on some kind of investigation." She slips into professional mode. John appreciates it.
The captain gives her his thanks, smiles gratefully and gently pulls John towards the huge staircase that runs behind the counter.
"Oh, and Captain," Mable calls from where she has turned towards a com-screen. "The stars will be out tonight. The doors to the roof are open."
The captain does not answer her, but there is a little more energy in his step as they bound up the stairs.
"She's calling the Admiral, you know, he's got spies everywhere." The captain snarls a bit as he unlocks the door to their room.
"In this case, they may come in handy, Sherlock." John quips as he steps through the door, the memory of the huge alien from earlier today still fresh in his mind.
He takes stock of the place, his eyes falling on the huge four-poster bed, complete with a canopy. It's all done in a heavy, dark wood. There are two windows in the room on the north wall, they are not large and up high so that they have all the privacy they need. There is a small round table in one corner with two chairs. A slit in the center of the table marks the com-screen. He notices with a grimace that the screen is powering up.
Within seconds, the Admiral is greeting both of them. John tries to give the Admiral his undivided attention, but Sherlock, standing just outside the range of the tiny screen, is slowly and meticulously removing his clothing, staring at his partner with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. John clears his throat and reluctantly tears his eyes away. This is his life now. Almost being killed by some alien bar-bouncer type one minute and almost being seduced by a gorgeous IA Captain the next. He sighs and attempts to pay attention to the call.
"Captain, it would probably be wise for you to listen, even if you are naked." The Admiral announces from the screen. It doesn't seem to have the swivel function like the ones on the ship, but John is surprised that the Admiral called Sherlock's actions so well.
"John, it is obvious from the expression on your face and your trousers that my brother is doing something to keep your attention on him, and since I don't hear him flouncing about, I am assuming he is attempting a strip-tease." The Admiral seems to have crossed his arms in front of himself and has come pretty close to a pretty spectacular huff himself in imitation of his little brother.
John puts his hands up to his face and rubs his eyes. Sherlock is glaring at him over the back of the com-screen. He comes around it to where John is standing, completely naked. His brother groans.
"Really, Sherlock?" Admiral Holmes is now staring directly into his brother's eyes. "Fine. We shall get this over with quickly. Number one, there are native clothes for both of you in the suitcase. Number two, I am not so concerned with you two blending in as I am with protecting you, so you will also find a pair of cloaks to wear about your persons whilst you travel. Number three, and this one is absolutely non-negotiable: DO NOT lose the jewel." He says nothing else, only powering down his end of the communication.
Sherlock snickers and walks over to the table, taking the covers off of two large food trays. One is covered with what John is pretty sure is some sort of sliced meat and cheese, and the other is heavily laden with several kinds of fruit, berries and nuts. A pitcher of a clear liquid and two glasses sit behind the trays. The captain, never bothering to even put on a towel, sits down in one of the chairs. John takes the other. As they dine, Sherlock's chair gets closer and closer to John's until the captain is almost in John's lap. As it is, Sherlock's long legs are stretched out over John's thighs, his feet in John's lap. Occasionally a toe gently strokes John's abdomen.
"This is fun." John laughs a little, fingers closing over the captain's ankles. He takes a deep swallow of his drink and wonders if what he is imbibing is alcoholic.
"It's not fermented, John." Sherlock runs a foot up John's chest. John is slowly getting used to the idea that it seems the captain can read his mind. Right now he has other things to worry about though, as a rather long foot is nuzzling against his groin. He has completely given up eating and is slowly massaging the captain's legs. He stares at the wiggling toes for a moment and then holds up a foot and runs his tongue down the length of it.
The captain just stares, his mouth wide open and hand in the air holding his glass. John, liking this reaction does it a second time. The captain sets his glass on the table, takes his legs out of John's lap and is on his knees in front of John in a fraction of a second. From the floor, he leans up and they kiss, slowly liking at each other's lips. Sherlock leans into the other man and John runs his hands down his naked back. He cannot quite reach the captain's buttocks, so he pulls him tighter. The captain pulls back just a little and they watch each other carefully. He slowly palms the erection in John's trousers and laughs a little when John groans. He leans down and playfully nuzzles the spot in John's lap where his toes were a short time ago.
John grasps the back of the captain's head, cupping the back of the other man's skull gently but with a firm intent. The captain clicks the button on John's belt and works his erection out of his flies. He leans down and places a tiny kiss right on the head of John's penis. John hisses through his teeth and tightens his grip on the captain's skull, his hand only asking a question, not giving an order. The captain slowly swirls his tongue around John's straining cock, listening for the right time. John moans loudly, reaching down and grasping the base of his member. He pumps slowly and smoothly while the captain sucks and teases the head. Finally, just before he comes, the captain leans down and engulfs John's cock completely. John's legs kick out straight around the captain's body as he falls into the rolling sensation of his orgasm. The captain continues to suck and lick as John rolls through it. He lets John's cock slip through his lips, waits until John is looking him in the eyes and swallows the mouthful of come. John groans again and pulls the captain's face upward. He does not kiss the captain, but runs his tongue along the other man's lips, tasting himself and Sherlock's saliva at the same time.
The captain goes back to his knees and rests his head on John's muscular thighs. Once the haze clears a bit, John asks if he can return the favor. "You will, John, but not right now. I want to show you something."
John stands on wobbly legs as the captain locks their bedroom door and moves towards the tiny bathroom. He reaches up and presses a hidden button then steps back as a ladder slowly drops out of the ceiling.
"Will you grab that cloak for me?" The captain watches the ladder until it hits the floor. John gets one of the two cloaks that are hanging on hooks on the back of the bedroom door and slips it around the captain's slender shoulders. It falls right back off as he climbs upward. John loops the cloak around his neck, noting the soft feel of velvet as he climbs up.
They step off the ladder onto a small, flat rooftop. Sherlock reaches over and takes the cloak from John, pulling it over his arms and shoulders, but leaving it open. He wanders over to where a pair of long, low chairs sits next to a small table. There is a bright orange vase filled with red flowers on it. Out of curiosity, John leans in and takes a deep whiff of the flowers. They remind him strongly of fresh strawberries. The captain drops gracefully down into one of the chairs and holds out a hand, inviting John to join him. John stretches his legs out in front of him and grasps the offered hand. He studies Sherlock's face for a moment and follows his partner's line of sight towards the sky.
The suns are just setting so that the sky is streaked with orange, pink, gold, and a deep midnight blue. They sit in silence as the deep blue slowly turns to black. They turn towards each other and catch their mouths in a deep, needy kiss. After a few moments, they break apart and the inky sky is completely filled with tiny gold and silver stars.
"It's beautiful, Sherlock. Thank you." John kneels at the captain's side and lays a palm on his naked chest, pulling open the cloak a fraction. He slowly caresses the warm bare skin and leaves a soft kiss over where he can feel his partner's heartbeat. Sherlock's reflex is to wrap his arms around John and pull him tighter. John obliges by moving his mouth to the captain's neck where he teases a bit with his tongue and then biting down when he feels Sherlock's arms tighten around his body.
The captain sucks in a breath through his teeth and tightens his hold. John nips and worries the skin between his teeth, alternating sharp bites and licks. He reaches under the folds of the cloak to stroke the captain's hardening member. The captain's hip buck forward and John turns his ministrations to his partner's needy cock. He doesn't tease in the same way the captain does, though he is careful to take his time with the blow job. Finally, just before the captain comes, John carefully squeezes his balls. The captain bucks upward, almost choking the ambassador, but John is nonplussed, pushing him back down into the chair with the other arm. The captain throws his head back and is almost growling at the stars. John pulls his mouth away but continues to stroke the captain's straining cock as he ejaculates, pulsing with each movement of his partner's fingers.
John lazily kisses the captain who attempts to take control and deepen the kiss by nipping his lips. John smiles and pulls away, he moves quickly down the ladder and then reappears with a clean towel in his hand. He cleans up the captain's mess and then pulls the cloak closed over his chest. He pushes the chairs as close together as they will go and then leans back next to the captain. They nap that way in the cooling air of the night for a short time, their hands clasped between them.
It seems to have been only minutes when the captain is shaking John awake and asking him if he would rather finish out the night in a bed. John agrees and follows him down into the room, shivering just a little from the coolness of the air. He undresses quickly and falls into the plush bed beside the captain. The captain rolls to his side and John presses up against him, one arm over his waist and the other under his head.
John is awoken later by a heavy thud and a crash. He is instantly alert and bolts upright in the bed to find that the captain is gone. He moves silently towards the bedroom door and grabs the other cloak to cover himself. He listens: the noise is coming from the roof. In the dim light from the windows, he can see that the ladder to the roof has been pulled back down out of its hiding place. He rushes up it.
When John gets to the roof, it is to witness a struggle already in progress. The captain is toe-to-toe with two beings, a human and the huge alien from this afternoon. He stuns the human just as John enters the fray and John watches the man fall to the deck, limp. Sherlock catches his eye and makes an almost imperceptible nod towards the massive alien who seems confused that another person has seemingly appeared from nowhere. He finally seems to make a decision because he lowers his head like a charging rhino and rushes right towards Sherlock. Sherlock gracefully spins on his bare feet and watches as the alien plunges off of the roof. There is a sickening squelch and a thud as he hits the hard ground.
John heads towards Sherlock's side, quickly checking him over. Just as they both move to check on the human attacker, Sherlock is taken out by a blow to the knees. As he falls, John rushes the man, pinning him to the deck. He bucks and squirms and curses, trying anything and everything to get the shorter man off of him. After a moment, he goes still and John turns to see what is happening to the captain.
The man is well trained in dirty fighting and quickly forces John off of him. Once again, he rushes Sherlock and John grabs for his legs. It's too late. The man has covered the small distance between them and now has Sherlock in a hold, but his feet are still moving. With a growing horror as he attempts to get at the captain, John watches Sherlock and his attacker plunge over the edge of the roof.
Chapter 18: Dark Justice
John feels his heart stutter and stop. Through some miracle, it actually starts again and he sees Sherlock going over the roof in slow motion. He sees his own hand as it reaches out towards him, then his head is spinning. He falls to his knees, cradling his head in his hands. For a few moments there is the strongest feeling that he should have seen this coming-a strange sense of déjà-vu, he should have been better prepared, should not have let himself sleep, should have considered all of the alternatives…
Then there is the tiniest sound. John almost misses it in the chaos that is dragging down his mind. For a half second, he is pretty sure his ears are playing tricks on him. There it is again: a faint scraping noise. He rushes in the direction of the sound and peers over the flat edge of the roof.
Captain Holmes is hanging by his fingertips and kicking out with his legs trying to dislodge his attacker. John is at once elated and terrified. He knows as soon as he gets them both back up here the captain's attacker is going to attempt to finish the job. He considers the ramifications for a moment and then reaches down and grasps Sherlock's hands, slowly pulling him up. Up until now, Sherlock has been busy looking down at the man clinging to his legs, but he finally looks up at John and says thank you in a breathy, almost too-quiet voice.
It is a strange scene, John thinks as he pulls Sherlock up. He leaves the taller man's legs hanging just over the edge, hoping that it will give them some control over the attacker. He holds Sherlock's hands, waiting on the thug to climb back up. The captain is quiet, keeping his head down. He seems instinctively to know what John is attempting to do. He realizes that sometimes, even in heat of battle, one needs to trust.
John waits, watching Sherlock's legs tremble as the would-be killer pulls himself up. In an instant, John has let go the captain's hands and grabbed the thug's arms, once again pinning him to the ground. This time he doesn't let go. The captain rolls over onto his back and gingerly pulls himself into a sitting position. He takes stock quickly and then is down the ladder and back in a flash. He is holding John's weapon and hands it to the other man. John relaxes his hold just enough so that Sherlock can search the thug, keeping his weapon aimed at the man's temple.
"Who are you?" Sherlock asks.
"Fuck you." The thug states from underneath John.
John raises his eyebrows up at Sherlock. Sherlock leans down and plants a kiss right on the top of John's head while pulling his cloak around his body. John is so relieved that his partner is alive and well he has to keep himself in the moment.
"I could just knock him out, yeah?"
Sherlock shakes his head. "I called for help and I still need answers."
The thug bucks up once and almost unseats John. Sherlock takes note and gives the man a swift kick in the ribs for his efforts. Though he is barefoot, John notes a snapping sound when the captain's foot makes contact. The attacker grunts and groans a little. Sherlock draws his foot back for another kick just as the man mumbles something indistinct. He stops mid-kick and places his bare foot right above the attacker's rib cage, beside John's thigh. He presses down with just his toes and the man squirms but doesn't cry out. The captain presses a little harder, this time also using the ball of his foot. This time the man does scream. Sherlock backs off, placing his feet together on the ground.
"Who are you?" He asks for the second time. He still sounds a little breathy, but his demeanor is composed.
There's a mumbling sound and the thug attempts to raise his head. Sherlock reaches down and presses on the back of it, effectively pushing the thug's face into the wooden decking. The captain is not patient and it is taking all of his control to simply not slam the man's face into said decking and possibly break his nose, or worse.
"I am only going to ask one more time. I know you are human, I know that you are entirely too stupid to have planned this on your own. You are working for some other being and you had to have been let in…" Sherlock trails off a little, considering that perhaps Mable wasn't as much on his side as he would like.
"I…" the thug tries to raise his head again and this time Sherlock accidentally lets his hand slip a little hard, giving him a nice bruise for his efforts. John can feel the anger coming off of him in hot waves. "Goddammit!" The thug yells, his voice partially obscured by the fact his lip has been split by the wood underneath it. "I can't talk like this. I am telling you nothing, your stupid bitch friend let me in the door once I gave it to her a little rough. She's that kind of bitch, you know. You shouldn't have left…"
This time Sherlock has had enough. He slams the man's face against the decking one more time, hard, and John lets go as the body underneath him goes completely limp. John stands up and replaces his weapon behind his back. Without saying anything, he follows Sherlock down the ladder, through their room, and down the staircase.
They enter the lobby moving fast on bare feet, both of them wearing nothing except cloaks. Mabel is nowhere to be seen. The captain points John in the direction of the front door and heads towards the counter. As he walks around the counter, John hears him suck in his breath, startled. John rushes to his side and lets Sherlock's gaze guide his own.
Mable is sitting on the floor with her back to the counter. Her eyes are wide open and staring, dried tears on her cheeks. Her hands are at her throat, though the gesture came too late. A ligature has been wrapped around her neck so tightly that there are thin beads of drying blood around them. John reaches over to the woman and gently closes her eyes. He turns towards his partner who is still standing and staring at the corpse.
"Sherlock." The captain does not react. John tries again, a little firmer this time. "Sherlock." He is awarded when the other man finally looks at him. He holds out a hand and pulls the captain to his side. "Come on. Let's go get some clothes on. You said that you called for help. Let's be ready to meet them."
Sherlock just nods and follows John up the staircase.
They hurriedly dress in the native clothes that have been packed into their luggage by the Admiral's crew, only half-way paying attention to anything. John is still straightening up his brown tunic when there is a voice at their door, requesting entry.
Sherlock lets in the team of three beings, all dressed in IA uniforms. He raises his eyebrows to the team leader and points towards the ladder that is hanging down. They move towards it but are back in record time, informing John and Sherlock that the attacker has bled out on the roof. John feels a little twinge of guilt, but it is quickly replaced by anger when he thinks about the woman downstairs.
The team cuts through the room and they can hear their footsteps on the staircase as Sherlock closes the door behind them. He turns toward the table and pushes a single button on the com-screen as it comes up through the top. Within seconds, the Admiral's face comes into focus.
"I am sorry to hear about Mable, Sherlock."
Sherlock doesn't answer his but John picks up on the slight nod that means he has accepted his brother's condolences.
"How quickly will your team clean this mess up?"
"It will not take long, captain. They should be out of there within the hour. I am sending a member of my team to take over that position. I am sure you would like to change rooms."
Sherlock looks over his shoulder at John, silently questioning him, including him in the decision. John thinks for a second and nods back. They need somewhere to reconnoiter once they have spent the day out trawling for information.
"Yes. We will take the suite downstairs opposite the check-in counter."
"Fine. Please keep me informed." The com-screen goes dark and slides back into its hiding place. John makes to pick up the luggage but Sherlock stops him.
"They will take care of it for us." He turns away and leaves the room, John on his heels.
